


in a river in the dark

by labeledbones



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-18 14:25:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18251666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/labeledbones/pseuds/labeledbones
Summary: A midnight swim. Oliver’s idea. The two of them restless in bed, full of humming energy, wanting something else to do with their skin.Some Elio/Oliver skinny-dipping angst for you.





	in a river in the dark

A midnight swim. Oliver’s idea. The two of them restless in bed, full of humming energy, wanting something else to do with their skin.

How lightly they tried to walk on those creaking floorboards as they snuck out of the house. How Elio’s heart thrilled with every tentative, secretive step, hoping not to make a sound. How he closed his eyes as he followed Oliver’s broad shoulders down the hall, being led in a house he knows by heart.

Watching Oliver strip down to nothing in the grass by the river, his nakedness is still new to Elio each time. Oliver catches him looking, turns up one corner of his mouth, puts his hands on his hips, and waits while Elio pulls off his own clothes, every nerve ending in his body attached to Oliver’s eyes.

Oliver disappears quickly in the darkness of the water. He is there one second and then he goes underwater and he’s gone. Elio waits for him to come back up, to resurface, but there is nothing but black water surrounding him.

He loses Oliver long enough for panic to start building in his chest, the back of his throat. He loses Oliver long enough for him to pretend Oliver is gone for good. He loses Oliver long enough for his heart to break.

He’s already started writing letters to Oliver for when he’s gone for good: on pages of books, on postcards, on his skin as he sleeps.

He turns around in the cold water, searching, until suddenly there is skin against his back, Oliver’s laughter in his ear.

“Asshole,” Elio mutters, turning to face him.

Oliver’s skin in the moonlight is porcelain, is fragile, is something he wants to touch but feels like he shouldn’t. He feels a familiar shaking under his skin, his nerves coming alive, his blood moving quicker.

They kiss while treading water, the sound of the river making small waves around them, their mouths moving aimlessly, unhurriedly.

In his head, Elio writes a letter to Oliver about this: the taste of his mouth after midnight in cold water.

They only stop when they start to slip under, forgetting to move their legs.

Oliver spits water at Elio’s face and tilts his head back. “They don’t have stars in New York,” he says, eyes on the dark blue sky. His voice is matter of fact, but Elio hears the rough edges where his longing lives.

Elio looks at his face, bathed in faint light. Jealousy overwhelms him, that Oliver should look at anything else besides him with such adulation, such awe. He wants to turn the entire sky black.

“So stay,” he says.

“For the stars?” Oliver asks, grinning as he keeps his eyes on those far off points of light.

Elio’s jealousy dissipates and instead he feels himself become one of those stars: distant, burning, dying, already dead. So far away from Oliver that he can’t smell the skin beneath his jaw, can’t touch his tongue to his belly button. So far away he can just barely make out Oliver’s eyes, the shape of his mouth.

He feels a lonely ache start to hollow out his bones.

“Yeah, for the stars,” he says, dunking Oliver’s head under the dark water.

He goes under with him, and opens his eyes, sees nothing but black emptiness, but he feels Oliver’s arms around him, holding him suspended there, floating. Elio wonders how long they can hold their breath, how long they can stay here.

He pretends each second is a year — one year, two years, three, four, five, they are growing older together, they are learning more and more of each other, they are building a world together — until their bodies begin the inevitable, instinctual ascent back towards the surface.

They come up gasping. Oliver kisses him firmly and Elio holds onto him, willing their bodies to merge, become one body, so they never have to go in different directions.

Oliver pulls away, tossing his head back, moving his wet hair out of his face. He looks at Elio and there is a feeling in Oliver’s face: affection, sadness, something warmer than just lust.

“Let’s go back,” he says, turning abruptly from Elio and swimming back to the shore.

Elio doesn’t move, feels like he can’t move.

So he stays there, right where he is, his arms and legs moving in the water to keep him afloat.

He watches as Oliver reaches the shore, pulls himself out of the water, his bright shining body a beacon urging Elio home.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from "In A River" by Rostam.


End file.
